


Undressing for Success

by Dawnwind



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:55:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of violence comes the need for closeness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undressing for Success

Undressing for Success  
By Dawnwind

 

"Take this off," Hutch said, running both hands down Starsky's body. "Nothing fancy, no burlesque, just get undressed nice and…" He stepped back with a long appreciative look at Starsky. "Slow."

Starsky shivered, the arousal in Hutch's eyes heating him up better than any roaring fire. He bowed his head, feeling oddly demure despite his erection, and unbuttoned his blood splattered plaid shirt. Each button was slipped through the buttonhole until he could slide one sleeve off and then the other. He skimmed out of his blue t-shirt too fast, judging from the low growl coming from Hutch. Taking a breath, Starsky centered himself, feeling the headspace flow through, making him want to kneel and press one cheek against Hutch's throbbing groin.

But that was for later—now he had been given his orders. He knew what to do. 

Unbuckling his belt, he fingered the zipper pull on his jeans, waiting, slowing down, letting Hutch see the long lean sweep of his chest. There was no preening or silly dance like he might have done on another day. This was too fraught with emotion for that kind of show. They'd both barely escaped with their lives that morning. They needed to reaffirm everything that signified life and strength—and love.

Starsky glanced up at Hutch. He was gorgeous, tall and elegant, his blond hair wild and untamed by any comb. He could still see Hutch charging down the alley, that huge gun clasped in his hand, that voice booming off the sides of the buildings. "Freeze, shithead!" 

Bullets had zinged around them, both sides shooting at one another. The desperate fuck who'd tried to get away by using Starsky as a shield had thrust Starsky out in front of him just as Hutch's shot blew away his brains.

Starsky shuddered, still in the grip of the last adrenaline spike. Fear melted, spread and dissolved into lust, the memories of gore and violence shelved until some nightmarish night when he couldn't sleep.

For now, he had Hutch. He had love and assurance.

"Pigeon, did you forget what you were doing?" Hutch asked, his arousal intertwined in every single word. 

Starsky could have come from the sound alone. "No," he said with a grin. He shucked off the jeans, one leg at a time, off and over his red socks.

Hutch liked the red socks, always asked Starsky to wear them. 

"Looks like you're still dressed to me." Hutch said, licking his lips.

"The last one's for you," Starsky whispered.

Hutch grasped the waist band of Starsky's shorts and jerked them down so that his hard-on bobbed upward like a cork.

"All for me," Hutch proclaimed. "All of it."

He dipped one hand into his pocket for the lube and Starsky lay back on their bed, ready for his gift.


End file.
